


Peanuts

by jessahmewren



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, MSR, Oral Sex, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: Mulder interrupts Scully as she's watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special and things get heated.





	1. Charlie Brown

 

-0-0-0-

Scully settled onto the couch, remote in hand, and smoothed the blanket in her lap. Everything was  _perfect_.  She looked around at the calm of her modest apartment. The few Christmas decorations she had were tasteful and cheery.  

She checked her watch; it was a quarter ‘till seven. Almost time, she thought with no small measure of delight.  She stole to the kitchen just as the phone rang.  

Scully audibly groaned.  There was no wondering who it was, only what could he want now?  She had just left the office.  She begrudgingly picked up her cordless phone and answered it, knowing it would be Mulder on the other line.

“Scully it’s me. I’m halfway there I just need you to look at one thing for me.”  

Her face fell. “Mulder no.  We’ve already been over the autopsy results.  The victim died of electrocution.”  Scully unconsciously rubbed her aching neck and shoulders.  “It’s not spontaneous combustion.”  She smiled in spite of herself.  “Not this time.”

“There’s an anomaly here Scully and it will take two minutes of your time.”  His silence said please, and if Mulder had been there she couldn’t have said no to those soft hazel eyes, and that wounded look he often used against her.  

“Yeah yeah,” she said instead and clicked off the phone.  

She turned on the TV anyway and made sure it was on the right channel.  If Mulder was as close as he said, she would only miss the middle part.  Nothing much happened in the middle, and she could forgive him that.  

She settled on the couch as the familiar music came on, a broad smile on her face.

Ten minutes later Mulder was at her door.  He had an arm load of files that he had to adjust to keep from dropping before he knocked.

“It’s unlocked,” she called from within.  He twisted the knob and let himself in.

Scully was sitting on the couch, her feet tucked under her, snuggled under a blanket.  She had a mug in her hand.  He couldn’t help but spend a little time looking at her; it wasn’t often he was giving the luxury of time, and she was so absorbed in whatever she was watching on television that if she was aware of his intense study, he wasn’t aware of it.  

She wore those delicate wire frame glasses she claimed to need only for reading.  The images from the program she was so engaged in flashed in bright, soft colors, mirrored in the lens.  Her lips were slightly parted, and they were soft and inviting enough to make his mind wander even more than it presently did.  He cleared his throat.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Mulder stood there in a long trench coat and a stack of files in his hand.  The arc of his tan cheeks was kissed by the cold and the gentle, lopsided grin he often favored her with added warmth to the room.  

“Hey,” she said with a smile.  “I was just watching some TV.  Why don’t you come in?”

Scully left the couch and padded over to him in a pair of Christmas socks, plaid flannel pajama bottoms, and a grey longsleeve Henley that hugged her snuggly and set her red hair and lips in sparks of deep garnet and flecks of gold.  Mulder had never seen her like this…at home, relaxed, and with her guard down…but he could certainly get used to it.

She reached up to take his coat, her small hands landing on the broad plane of his shoulders and tugging at the heavy material as he dutifully shrugged out of it. 

“So what was so urgent that couldn’t wait until morning, Mulder?”  

He juggled the files, trying to find the one he needed but quickly losing control of the pile. “Do you mind if I—“

Scully directed him to the coffee table where the already precarious stack of papers slid unceremoniously onto the smooth surface.  She motioned for him to sit.

Mulder settled on Scully’s comfy couch, suddenly realizing what he had interrupted.  There was a soft blanket bunched there and a mug of what appeared to be eggnog sitting forgotten on the end table.   _Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown_  was on the TV.

“Scully I’m really sorry I interrupted you,” Mulder began.  He moved on the couch, leaning forward to sift through the papers so that he might make a swift exit.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said offhandedly.  “I do this every Christmas.  Have since a kid.”  She reached for the mug of eggnog and disturbed the pillow behind her.  

Mulder sat back with the file in his lap, his eyes widening at the bottle of Grey Goose vodka which lay partially hidden behind her.  “I bet you haven’t done  _that_  since you were a kid though. His lopsided grin wavered a bit. “At least I hope not.”  

She laughed easily.  “Don’t be silly Mulder.”  Her cheeks reddened a little at his discovery of her little secret.  She pulled the bottle from behind her, a third of it missing.  “It’s for the egg nog,” she said brightly.  Make you a toddy Mulder?”  She waggled her eyebrows playfully, already up and moving to the kitchen.  “You don’t have to, Scully,” he called after her. “I’m only going to be a minute.”  

He watched her in profile from where he sat on the couch, her round bottom perfectly hugged by those pajama pants…her shirt hitching up in back where he could see a tantalizing patch of milky white skin.  She poured far more than a shot of vodka into his mug and gave him a winning smile.    
  
_Easy, Mulder_.

His throat was still tight when she handed the cheery Christmas mug. The eggnog was so thin with liquor he could have poured it through a screen.  He took an experimental sip.  “Woah, who taught you how to bartend, Scully? Frat boys?”  

She laughed, raising her mug in a toast.  “Brothers.”  Then she finished the eggnog in her cup and poured herself a shot of straight vodka.

Mulder swallowed hard.  

“Um, here’s that file I wanted you to take a quick look at,” he said distractedly.  She moved closer to better see the documents in his hand.  “Oh,” she said, crunching up her nose.  “You came all the way to Georgetown for THAT!?”  She’d said it a little too loudly, but if she noticed, it didn’t show.  The autopsy was performed twice, Mulder.”  She paused to down her shot, and Mulder watched her sinewy throat take the liquor with ease, entranced. “That’s why there are two tox screens, two external and internal exam reports…two of everything.”  

He looked at her skeptically.  “But they don’t add up to yours, Scully.”  

“There are minuscule areas of discrepancy, true,” she began, “but on matters of how this man died, his time of death?  Both my findings and those of the other agencies are of one accord.”

She looked at him for a few moments as if waiting for him to say something.  “Does that satisfy you?”

He worked his mouth thoughtfully.  “Yeah, I guess it does.”  

She smiled primly.  “Good. Because I’m about to have another drink.”  She poured another shot, tipped her head back, and deftly downed it in one go.  

Mulder had his hands on the back of the couch, an amused expression on his face.  “You usually go this hard during holiday specials, Scully?”

She brightened then, as if she had forgotten it was even on. “Shhh,” she said loudly, her hand covering his mouth, “Charlie Brown is one of my favorites and I’m not going to let you ruin it for me.”

He smiled into her fingers, but remained silent.  Her brow furrowed as she turned up the volume.  On screen, Charlie was purchasing the ill-fated little Christmas tree that would get him laughed out of his director’s position of the school play.  Scully shook her head, a deep frown on her face.  “Why do you think they always picked on Charlie Brown, Mulder?”  Her eyes were wet, and her cheeks and neck were flushed from the effects of the alcohol.  “His heart was always in the right place, but nobody ever gave him a chance.”

She pouted then and pulled her feet under her.  When her head dropped against his shoulder, he caught his breath.

“I think Charlie is a lot like me, Scully,” he said a little flatly. “A born loser who keeps catching all the wrong breaks.”  

She frowned, though he couldn’t see it.  She squeezed his arm.  “You’re not a loser Mulder,” she mumbled quietly.  He was wondering if, between the TV, the warm living room, and the alcohol that she wasn’t nodding off.  

Mulder only huffed.  “Dr. Scully, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you.  I’m most certainly Charlie Brown.”  

She laughed, sitting up on her knees to look at him. Then, she put one knee over his lap.  

_Oooh boy._

“Ss-Scully you don’t want to sit there,” Mulder barely got out.  He was fully engorged, and he didn’t need his partner knowing how incredibly attracted he was to her every waking moment of the day (and most nights)…but especially not tonight, when her lips were full and she was slightly tipsy and her ass looked so luscious in those pajama pants. He didn’t need her to find out by accidentally coming into contact with the evidence of his arousal.  He would have rather talked to her first and not be found out like some embarrassing middle school crush.

Scully looked at him, stupefied.  “Noo,” she drawled.  "If you’re Charlie Brown, then I have to be someone too.”  Her eyes were sparkling, and they searched his face as if putting it to memory.  She pursed her lips as if putting real thought into it.  “I know,” she finally said.  “I’m Lucy!”  

Mulder laughed, looking down to see his hands fitted at her waist as if they belonged there.   _Oh shit_ , he thought suddenly.   _Things here happening waaay too fast._

He gave her a little squeeze.  “You’re not Lucy, Scully.  Not by a longshot.  You’re the Little Red-Haired Girl.  You remember her?”  

Scully nodded.  “Is that the girl Charlie Brown always wanted to go out with?”  

“Mm hmm,” Mulder said quietly.  “But he was too afraid she was out of his league.  He tried so many times to find the right moment to say something to her…to tell her how he felt, but it just…never happened,” he finally said.

Scully frowned.  She had her arms on the couch behind him, and she let them fall to his shoulders to trace the smooth lines of his neck.  “I don’t want to be the Little Red-Haired Girl anymore,” she whispered against the smooth skin of his cheek.  And then she smiled.  “Unless we can change the ending.”

“Can we change the ending, Mulder?”

Mulder’s hands were making small circles on her back, smoothing the taut muscles there. With every revolution they dipped a little lower.  He was vastly losing control of this situation, he thought with a panic, if he had ever been in control to begin with.  

“We can do whatever you want,” he said tightly.

“Mmm,” she hummed contentedly.  “That would be nice.”  She scooted up further onto his lap, feeling the full brunt of his arousal urging against her center.

Mulder took a sharp intake of breath, stifling a groan.  “Scully, are you sure want to do this?”  He bit his lip, stilling her at the waist. “You’ve been drinking.”  

Scully rolled her eyes, and he almost laughed.  “But I’m not drunk, Mulder.  And you’re far too uptight.”  She began to loosen his tie with her delicate yet capable hands.  She stopped for a moment, and smiled.  “Is this the tie I gave you last Christmas?” She arched an eyebrow, one end of the tie stretched taut in her hands.

“That would be the one,” Mulder replied thinly, but it wasn’t his voice. Blood rushed in his ears.

“Give me your hands,” Scully said firmly.  She slid the rest of the tie from his collar and stretched it between both of her hands.  

“What would Charlie Brown say to the Little Red Haired Girl had he ever had the chance, hmm?” She looked at him doe-eyed over the fast work she was making of binding his hands at the wrists with last year’s Christmas present.

When he didn’t answer right away, she squirmed more insistently on his lap, causing him considerable discomfort.  

 _Fuck me_ , Mulder thought wildly.  He had fantasized about her so many nights, and here he was with the real thing and it just might kill him.

“He would tell her he wanted her,” Mulder began, looking into her eyes.  “That he was foolish to have never made that clear before.  That she was the only one he would ever want.”  

She leaned in, cupping his face with her hands.  “What else,” she breathed against his lips.

 _Shit_ , he thought miserably.   _She wants it all._ He closed his eyes.

“That I ache for you, Scully.  That when we’re on the road, I think of you in the bed on the other side of that wall and I touch myself,” he looked down, somewhat reluctant to finish. “But I only come when I’m in the shower so you can’t hear me call your name.”

She kissed him then, her lips parting his, her tongue exploring the soft wonders of his mouth.  She whimpered, and her hands floated down to pull at the collar of his shirt, fiddling blindly with the buttons there.  

He longed to plunge his hands into her hair, but she had fixed them securely.  Instead, he looped his arms over her head and pulled her roughly to him.  She yelped in surprise, breaking their kiss for a moment.

“I wanna hear you say it Mulder,” she rasped in his ear.  “I want you to cry out my name.”

He claimed her mouth again, cutting off the last word, and then moved to lathe his tongue along the gentle arc of her neck.  She moaned and it went straight to his groin.

“Let go of me,” she said huskily as she shrugged out from under his arms, “and lie back.”  

Scully gave him a heavy push to where he was prone against the couch, his feet stretched out.  She climbed cat-like atop him, a predatory gleam in her eye.  She settled a knee on either side of him and stretched her arms over her head.  The Henley fell into a deep grey pool of soft brushed cotton.  She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Jesus,” Mulder breathed.  His cock throbbed, and spots exploded behind his eyes.  Dana Scully, his trusted partner of some years, had beautiful, round, perfect breasts and he couldn’t even touch them.

“Untie me Scully,” he choked out.  “Right fucking now.”

She tsked quietly, working the fly of his pants. “Language,” she warned with a smile. Her hair fell in front of her face in a silken curtain as her supple breasts bobbed between her arms, forbidden fruit just out of reach.

He worked at the bindings at his wrist, but it was a futile effort.  “What the hell kind of tie is this,” Mulder asked through gritted teeth.  Scully only shrugged.  “I’m the daughter of a sailor Mulder; I know a thing or two about knots.”

She had him in her hand in seconds, and he had to will his hips still as they instinctively twisted into her loose grip.  She languidly ran her hand up and down the silken length him…hot, quivering, waiting for her.  She closed her lips on the tip and slipped him into her mouth.

He cried out, arching his back against the couch.  “Scullyyy—" he hissed sharply.  And then words escaped him.  She worked him with her mouth.  Smoothly and slowly at first, and then alternately faster and slower. Sometimes she let her teeth drag a little against his sensitive skin and held his narrow hips as he shivered.

Mulder had his bound hands over his head, his eyes shut tight, and he was panting.  To Scully, he had never been more beautiful.  

She increased her pace, enjoying the view as Mulder’s breathing increased and his head began to loll from side to side.  “Scully,” he whispered.  It was music…the sweetest sound.

“Say it again, Mulder.” She suckled him with less finesse.  He was holding back.  Holding back for her.  

“Scullyyy,” he said again, this time more of a plaintive sob. Unreal, she thought.  She would love him forever.  There would be no other.  

“Give it to me Mulder,” she told him, “Give me everything.”  He worried his lip.  “Do it,” she said.  “I want it. I want you.  I want to hear you.”

She took him into her mouth as deep as she dared, taking the rest of him like ripe fruit between the fingers of one hand.  Finally she felt him tighten, cry out her name in the most beautiful chorus of joy she could have ever hoped to hear and then fill her with his warmth.

When he was done and spent, she crawled up his body to lie on his chest.  “That was incredible,” she said into his neck.  There were unspent tears in her eyes.  “You were so incredible.  My God.” She reached for the knot around his wrists and pulled one end of it, loosening the entire thing.

Mulder’s eyes drifted shut for a moment, and he raked through her hair and let his fingers trail down her naked back.  The stiff peaks of her nipples digging into the front of his shirt finally brought him back from the blissful void.  

He grabbed her face and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. She was warm and pliable in his arms, and she drew her legs up to wrap around his torso.  Between her moans and the smell of her desire, the first stirrings of his renewed arousal were already forming.

“We’ve got to get you out of these,” he growled, already tugging at the waistband of the flannel pajama pants.  One hand found the tie that loosened them, the other found her breast.

She mewed, it was the only way to describe the sound she made as she arched into his hand.  He rolled one nipple between a thumb and forefinger.  “God Scully you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.  He stood, half-lifting/half-dragging Scully as they made their way to her bedroom.  

He sat her down roughly in a mound of pillows on Scully’s unmade bed.  In the back of his mind it registered that she could be messy, and it pleased him. He was learning so much about her in such a short span of time.  Now it was time for her to learn a few things about him.  

-0-0-0-


	2. The Little Red-Haired Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder turns his attention to Scully.

 -0-0-0-

He slowly crawled up the bed, moving over her body, taking his time. He began to kiss her. 

He felt good.  _So damn good_ , she thought, his weight pressing her into the mattress as his talented tongue lavished her mouth. God, it had been so long since a man had touched her like this. Had one ever touched her like this? Her powers of cognition seemed inconsequential.

She needed more of him. She pulled away, breaking their contact as she began working on the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes never left his, and her fingers trembled slightly at the task, desire already a potent narcotic. She worked silently for several moments under the intense scrutiny of his unreadable expression until he moved to still her hands.

He raised her wrist to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss there, and then another; his tongue flicked between his lips as he traced the lines of her palm.

The little moan that escaped her lips was sweeter than any music, he decided, and he would never tire of its melody. He couldn't suppress the self-satisfied smile when he realized it was brought to life by his hand.

He separated her hands and brought them back on either side of her head. He held them gently but with enough force to cause her wriggling body to still. He lowered his mouth to her ear, and she instinctively arched her body into his. Her taut nipples skated against the fabric of his dress shirt; she caught a button and hissed through her teeth.

"Slow down," he said seductively, almost amused. Her breath was coming in little pants and that, coupled with her hooded eyes, her breasts tight against him, and her swollen, dewy lips was enough to threaten his fortitude.

She responded to his request and almost immediately the resistance against his hold on her began to relax. She worried her lower lip, enjoying his momentary dominance of her, secretly thrilling at being pinned by this man she had only ever seen as an equal…a partner.  What would the FBI think of them now?  The very thought of the illicitness of their act sent a jolt of heat directly to her center and she moved under him, needing relief. She brushed the rigid length of him, and he inhaled sharply.

"God Scully you are so beautiful," he murmured into her neck. His words were rushed, lacking the practiced control of his usual diction. Her arms were free, but she found herself unable to move under his attention.

She lay before him, splendorous and perfect. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, her breasts laid bare, doe eyes looking up at him, vulnerable in her passion but belying the strength there. One hand was up by her head where he had left it, the palm like a half-opened flower.

A flash of uncertainty crossed her face as she endured his penetrating gaze, and after several moments he realized he'd said nothing. "Perfect," he managed. Given his limited cerebral blood supply at the moment, he found that was pretty eloquent.

She smiled then and her hands went up to caress his face. It was an adoring touch, one that Mulder was not accustomed to. She pulled him into a soft kiss, as passionate as before but less erratic, and her lips lingered there for several seconds.

He pulled away only to return his mouth to the hollow of her throat, her collarbone. The scrape of his stubble sent a shock of sensation through her body and she gasped. He smiled against her skin. There was so much to delight in, he scarcely knew where to start.

The hand at her waist tracked slowly up her side, gliding smoothly over her ribcage, the flat plan of her stomach. Mulder could feel her breath hitch from the sensation of his hands, the cool air. The skin over the pulse in her neck fluttered rapidly.

Finally, he ran a hand over her breast, just enough to cause her to quicken beneath him, and then he took one into his mouth.

Scully twitched against him, breathing his name, and the little sound was even better than the first. He teased one while he suckled at the other, letting his teeth graze her nipples just enough to delve into that grey area between pleasure and pain.

She was rocking gently into him now, and he knew she was close. He stopped his ministrations long enough to grab her hip roughly, stilling the movement. He looked her in the face, a dark glint in his eye. "Calm down, now," he chided, and his voice was so full of mirth that it pissed her off.

He watched as she balled her fists petulantly, refusing to look at him, and he chuckled, a low, resonant staccato that seemed to match the staccato of her throbbing sex. He placed a kiss along her abdomen, eliciting a sigh from her either because of or in spite of her frustration, he couldn't be sure, and her hands relaxed. God, it was irresistible to see her so worked up, he thought. This fierce, beautiful woman would be his undoing.

Mulder continued his slow exploration, placing a kiss on the smooth skin around her navel and tracing the curve of her hips with his hands. When he found the pajama pants, he slipped a thumb beneath the waistband and slid her panties off with them.  

He sat back and exhaled a slow, steadying breath at the sight of her. Soft red curls framed by the arc of her feminine curves. Her legs, lean and shapely, akilter among the sheets.

He made a noise she could only label as a growl, a low, hungry sound that caused the tightly-wound coil of desire within her to grow ever larger, threatening to split her in half. He held her at the waist and pulled her down the length of the bed a little rougher than he intended. He reached for a pillow and slid it under her hips.

She made a surprised little sound, and then grew quiet. Her eyes were shut and she had one hand over her face.

"Scully," he said as he gently parted her knees, "take your hand away. I want to see your face."

She complied, revealing a deep, rose-colored blush that had spread its way down the creamy column of her neck. He turned his face into the crook of her leg and kissed the side of her knee. "That's better," he breathed.

He took his time, running his hand over the length of her calf, the delicate ankle and down to those brightly painted red toenails. He couldn't think of a more perfect color for her.

He kissed his way back up, stopping to rest in that little recess between her hip and thigh. What a beautiful spot, he thought. His fingers brushed her sex, slipping inside her but withdrawing just as quickly that she scarcely had time to react and she wondered if it had happened at all. She twisted against him, desperate for more contact to satisfy the sweet agony he had visited upon her.

He stole a glance at her, lips parted and pupils black. She had two fistfuls of sheets and he'd barely touched her. He brought his fingers to his mouth, letting her essence moisten his lips. She had a sweet tang, like a dry wine. He closed his eyes.

"Mmm, Scully.  You are delicious." He smoothed a hand along her thigh and lowered his mouth to her.

She bucked beneath him, a series of moans escaping her lips unchecked, and he stilled her hips, intending her to remain there. "Be good," he said as he released her, "I'm going to need my hands."

Her mouth went dry and she had no concept of time or place as his mouth moved against her. She nodded meekly, not remembering the question or command, only that she was agreeing to something, anything, so long as he didn't stop. She felt the crescendo of her climax starting to build low within her, spreading into her legs and arms. He stubbornly ignored her throbbing core, his tongue expertly attending everywhere but there, and she wondered wildly if it might kill her, the want of him. She whimpered at the neglect.

He sat up, leaning over her, and his lips brushed the underside of her breast. He slid two fingers inside her, finding where that little bundle of nerves should be and applying gentle pressure.

He felt her tighten around him, and she was breathing heavily. He placed a flat thumb against her sensitive core and looked up to watch her.

She moved against him now, and he let her, matched her strokes. She arched her back, dug her heels into the mattress as she came, but instead of the relaxed tension of release, she gasped once more, experiencing an intensity, a blinding shock of pleasure that stole her breath. She cried out; her body racked by waves of sensation. She reached for him and he was there, fingers still inside her. He held her with his other arm as her body trembled, as it relaxed in blissful degrees. Her face was buried in his shoulder and she was crying.

He leaned forward and kissed her mouth and she tasted herself on his lips.

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered into her hair. She scarcely heard him. She wet her lips, looking into his dark pupils. It was beautiful, but not enough. She needed more; she needed him.

"Mulder." Her hands went up to the collar of his shirt, and this time he did not stop her. She kissed his jaw line, the smooth flesh below his ear. She nipped at it there.

She discarded the shirt and set to work on the undershirt.  She pulled it out of the belt and slipped her hands under it.

She smoothed her hands over the strong plane of his shoulders, then down to his chest, marveling at the wonder of him, and further downward, stopping at his belt. He stood then, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes. His eyes never left hers.

She was on her knees on the edge of the bed as he stood looking at her in the moonlight. She reached between them and took him in her hand. She looked up into his face, her eyes alight with desire and locked on him.

"I want you inside me Mulder," she said as she stroked him gently. "I need that."

His eyes fluttered closed, and he grunted with the effort it took to maintain control. He swiftly picked her up, laying her against the sheets a little sloppily as he settled on top of her. Scully thrilled inwardly at the danger she saw in him, the want, satisfied in knowing that it was for her, all for her. She pulled his head down to hers, claiming his mouth, his expert tongue of whose talents she would forever be appreciative.

He broke the kiss long enough to look into her face. She gave him a little nod, looking at him through her lashes. She wanted this as much as he did, he realized, and he smiled inwardly.

He caressed her thigh and then drew her leg up around him to cross over his lower back as he eased inside her.

She gasped, adjusting to his girth. He let out a slow, decompressing sigh as he slid deeper inside her. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. He locked eyes with her as he rocked his hips forward in long, slow strokes.

The deep, smooth heat of him fit her perfectly, made sense somehow. He'd been missing, she realized. All these years he'd been missing from her life and she'd never thought to look right beside her.  He’d been there all along.

She watched his face change...the emotions flitting briefly across his face like light through a window at sunset.  She reached up to caress his shoulders as she matched his rhythm.

He quickened his pace, and she made no effort to thwart the moan that escaped her lips. She grabbed his ass, pulling him tightly to her, and heard him groan.

She felt herself tightening around him, and her hands went up to trace the straight column of his back. From the look of concentration on his face she could tell he was close to the edge.

Scully turned her face up to his, and he bent to kiss her. She studied him, breathless and nearly gone. Her hands went up to hold his face, memorizing it. "Let go Mulder," she said into his ear. And with two more emphatic thrusts, he did.

She came almost simultaneously, and as she tightened around him he whispered her name. Something inside her broke to hear it and she shuddered against him, legs trembling as he held her tightly. She freefalled into nothing, but he was there. He would always be there, she realized. Had always been there. She clung to him and he breathed heavily into her hair as the waves of their orgasm receded between them.

They lay entwined, their spent bodies glistening and weak. Mulder lazed kisses at her temple, her ear, the line of her throat. The contented hum there vibrated against his lips, and he smiled against it.

He would appreciate her more fully in the light of day, he thought. He would appreciate every inch of her properly. He snugged his arm around her, pulling himself close against her. She brushed a hand against his face, studying him, disbelieving. She laughed then, a soft sound at how surreal it was, Mulder holding her in his arms after making love like they were the only two people in the world.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. He kissed her lips and they simply lay in each other's arms, neither of them speaking or needing to. After several moments, he could tell from her weight and from the rise and fall of her uncovered chest that she had fallen asleep.

He lay his head on her shoulder, relishing the feel of her skin against his, the scent of her. He felt his eyes sting. How many nights had he dreamed of holding this woman, of resting against her sleeping body?

He kissed her shoulder and closed his eyes. Too many to count, he decided. Mulder would do anything, anything in the world for her. It had always been this way. It would never change.

His breathing slowed, and soon his breath matched hers as he slipped into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

-0-0-0-


End file.
